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I was incredibly pissed off Sunday morning. Just after the turn of the year, the Landlady from Hell called to say that she was sending a handyman over to look at our bathroom floor and asked if I could talk with him right then to set up a time. (Of course, there is a huge amount of backstory here, which I will tackle some other time.) She put the guy -- let’s call him Greg, because that’s his name and he pissed me off -- on the phone. Greg is apparently not a full-time handyman, since he wants to schedule a time to come on a weekday evening or weekend. Fine with me, since I don’t want to take off work to get my floor fixed. He wasn’t able to come in the evening any time last week, so suggested Sunday morning at 9:00. OK, I usually go to the beach then out to breakfast on Sunday morning, but I can make an exception this once in the interests of our toilet not crashing through to the downstairs apartment with me on it. He seemed to think that by coming that early, he could scope it out, run out to City Mill to get whatever supplies he might need, and be done by noon. (I kept my "HA!" to myself.)

Anyway, as you might have predicted, 9:00 Sunday morning rolls around, and no Greg. I finished my tasty home-cooked breakfast around 10:00, and still no Greg. By this point, I was annoyed that I had missed my morning at the beach, since I’m usually home by 10:30 or 11:00. Had I known he was going to be late, I still could have gone to the beach and just come home a little earlier, or asked him to come a little later. Knowing that Greg’s prediction of finishing in less than three hours was a crock, I then started to get annoyed about all the things I wouldn’t be able to do in the afternoon if he showed up right then.

Needless to say, 10:30 came and still no Greg. I called the number he had given me and whoever answered the phone said that he had gone out earlier in the morning "to do stuff" and that I should call back later if I wanted to talk to him. I asked the guy to take a message, and got to my phone number when I realized the guy wasn’t writing it down. That’s when I really lost it.

It's five days and two more phone messages later, and I still haven't heard from him. I kinda think I don't want this guy fixing my floor anyway.
- posted by Lori @ 6:38:00 PM | permanent link | |